Samurai of Justice
by Yoritomo Samurai
Summary: A story about a young Samurai taught to do good, but at odds with the world around him.


"Well young man. You have had ample opportunity to think about your place in the world. Where will you place your skills? Which side are you on?", the deep voice demanded.  
  
"My side." A short, simple, reply was given, in a voice which seemed to flow like a river passing softly against stones.  
  
"What!? How dare you!?" Came the deep voice's reply, followed by the sound of a sword exiting it's sheathe. The glinting light from the blade reflected off the arrogant one's eyes, which seemed to make him think twice.  
  
"Put your sword away. I may not attack people without need, but if your blade remains drawn, I will consider it a threat." A soft, cool reply was given in response to the sword. His hand remained neatly at his side.  
  
No response to the man's threat. He had drawn his blade and the other had simply told him to put his sword away. Realizing this was a coward indeed, the katana fell vertically to split the arrogant fool in two. Surprisingly, he felt a sudden resistance to his blade a few inches from the other man's skull. The light reflected another blade, one that was not his own, holding the katana away. "Wh-what skill!" The man with the deep voice stuttered. As he continued to try and press the advantage of upper-body weight, a pain filled his side, demanding. The eyes looked down to watch a blade slowly exit his chest. With a painful cry, he fell backwards, landing on the matt of the dojo. Trying desperately to retain his breath, a few words left his lips. "Who..are you..." The other man stood slowly, taking out a cloth to clean his blade. The sound of metal meeting it's sheathe was heard, before the light ring was heard. Finally, the other man began to move away from him, without saying another word. The man with the deep voice's eyes set upon him, watching him walk away from him mercilessly. Moving his fingers to his chest, he traced the line in total disbelief, feeling the air begin to leave his lungs. Somehow, that other one had sliced into his heart, while still leaving it time to beat. With one erratic jerk, his body became completely motionless. The door slid silently open, before closing again. The pool of blood flowed freely onto the mat which moments before, the sensei of the school of martial arts had been so proud of.  
  
A soft sigh slowly escapes the young samurai's lips, letting the silver-steel eyes fall onto the ground. Slipping on his slippers, he moved with silent grace onto the pathway of the dojo, the fifth one. They had been searching for his loyalty since talks of the tournament had begun. The soft padding echoed into his ears lightly, the young samurai's night-time visit useless as always. A silent prayer uttered from his lips, hoping this would be the last dojo which would call upon his services for the tournament. Of course, he knew that there would be at least three to four more requests by the time he made his way to the room in the inn.  
  
The tournament would be a spectacle to see who trained the best samurai in all of the city. Udo Kui was not, however, one of the cities in which true samurai were trained. It was a well known fact that the most crimes, rapes, and murders took place here, within the walls of this city, then in all over the continent. This place was a hell-hole, only the filthiest of men, or the poorest of merchants, even bothered to open shops here. As it had been throughout it's creation. When it was first foundded by Udo Kui, the merchant had desired to make only a trading post for the travel-weary to rest, and empty abit of money from their pockets. However, this also became the attention of cut-throats and thieves. It became a useful ambush-area for them to take the money of passing merchants in exchange for their safe passage over the roads, or to assault caravans of merchants to take their wares and sell them on the black market. The most famous was the massacre of Perden. An entire family, as it made it's way along the road to the rest-stop, was attacked by a band of thieves. Not one from the family escaped. From that day, there were regular guards patrolling the highway. Of course, their timing was always perfect, or precise, so the thieves knew when to let a group pass by without harassing them, though some of the more daring cut-throats, trying to impress his friends, would take on one or two of the guards. The battle went whichever way. They were not real guards, more often then not, but peasents given weapons. Udo Kui, whom always held the proud reputation of, "Not willing to spare any expenses", was found to be alot less popular then he could imagine.  
  
It was this line of reasons which brought the young samurai to the village. A hero, a good guy, a man of good deeds. Those were titles people often think of when they meet someone like him. But he wants none of them. His sensei, before he had died, had always taught the young samurai that the greatest thing in life was to preserve people's life, and the innocent's happiness. As much as people would attempt to reward him, he remained uncorrupted by their desire to repay him. Daughters had been offered for marriage, sons had begged to become their sensei. None of these would he do. He simply continued on his path. But their was no super-powers about him. He was simply a samurai. A master of the Murimoto Niten technique, a style which was rare, infact, impossible to come by. It used the combination of a katana and a kodachi to fight with two weapons. However, contrary to most two-bladed styles, Murimoto Niten showed the user how to use the kodachi as a defensive weapon, while using the katana as an offensive weapon, effectively giving him perfect offensive, and defensive, capabilities. The young samurai, however, had twitched with the art, opening room for attacks from either weapon. Normally, the kodachi would be used for defense only. The young samurai knew that to be a weakness, and modified it.  
  
"HELP ME!!!" A shriek resounded on the walls of buildings. Quickly, the samurai adjusted his course to follow the sound of the voice. The sound of his slippers padding against the ground was barely acknowledgeable. The steel-like eyes set upon the source of the trouble. Three men stood around a woman, who's clothes had been torn off. She stood there pefectly quietly, tears streaking her face. A blade was near her throat. The samurai frowned at the sight. "Put the weapons down, and step away from the woman." His voice soft, barely was heard. The three men, interrupted from their fun, had, however, taken notice. Pushing the woman to the ground, they turned on him. He stood there before them, fearlessly, eyes watching them in quiet contemplation.  
  
"Stick your nose elsewhere. This is none of your business." It was the center man whom spoke, though he was wearing a cloak, the voice was discernable easily to him. "No, it is my problem. It is this city's problem to deal with men like you." A laugh spread amongst the three men. The other two raised arms to draw forth hidden blades, knives. His only reaction was to raise his left hand to face them. In it, was the beautifully designed work of a master-craftsman. A katana, perfectly formed, every detail about it perfect. The hilt, beautifully designed, was a dirty white color. This continued to the handguard, which was holed and designed to make it look like a star, made from gold to simulate a glow. The final view of it came, as he drew it from the sheathe, which was colored with green and black strokes, overtop a brown background, making it seem like fresh-cut wood. Finally, the blade itself, so perfect, made of a mix of steel and silver, hardened by years of use by both him, and his father before him. The men looked at the sword in doubt. It was no longer the man which had confronted them that had their attention, but the sword, and what it signified. It had become popular knowledge in the thieves underworld that a man carrying a sword with a star-shaped hilt went around correcting the wrongs men were doing, slaying them where it was needed.   
  
The left hand of the samurai slid up the hilt, before stopping just below the handguard, letting his right hand rest just above the butt-cap of the katana. The blade pointed directly into the air, as he drew the sword back so the handguard was barely touching his cheek. "Come meet your death." The three men looked at each other, before fanning out, moving slowly, dangerously. The first to move was the man on his left flank. The samurai dispatched him with unbelievable speed. The other man's hidden dagger had tried to stab for his side, however, the samurai knew the blow was coming, so stepped back, letting the blade pass harmlessly by him. The sword then swung forwards as the body of the thief stumbled infront of him, bringing the blade down on the middle of his back, pushing into the skin, before stopping, and pulling the sword into the air, the man before him crumpling in a heap. Blood spilled over the ground before him, as well as dripped from the blade. The other two took a glance at their falled comrade, before rushing him together, hoping their joint strength would be enough. The blade shifted, bringing the tip of the samurai's sword facing backwards in the air, his sword now held in the right hand at the handguard. The right hand's wrist moved to touch his left side, letting the blade go behind him. His left hand had moved to face the palm elegantly towards the ground. Neither man had thought much of him. But as the first man's arm came to him, the samurai's hand raised, and snapped above it, then down, hooking around his wrist, and pulling it to his left side, letting the knife lead the way to thin air. He then proceeded to pull the man forwards, towards him, his body still moving to the samurai's left side. Seeming to slide forwards along the ground, he came up beside the rapist, releasing his arm. His right hand suddenly snapped to the side, bringing the sword across in a horizontal slash for the man's exposed side, ripping into him. In the same instant, he spun in a full circle, the other man's blade moving past his back as he turned. Bringing the blade-arm around, his right elbow met the joint of the assailant's, causing it to break as he applied an incredible force into it. Even still, he continued to turn, forcing the other man's body to turn, bringing the sword to meet his back, and drag across it, ripping it open neatly. The two corpses fell in unison. The samurai stood there, sword bathed in their blood, his own clothes coated in it. The darkness hid his features, his clothes as well, only a candle-light present. The sound of the woman adjusting to watch had not been heard. But as he turned towards her, and saw her eyes full of fear, and wonder, he knew she had watched him dispatch her attackers.  
  
A steady silence took over the side-street. Slowly, the young woman crawled along the ground, attaching herself to his waist with her arms. Broken thank you's were heard. The young samurai kneeled before her, taking a cloak out of his pack. "Come, I will walk you home to your family." The woman nodded, wrapping the cloak around her, before standing. She was not a woman at all, but a child. The samurai's jaw dropped. This young woman was out so late alone? "Did you not have an escort when you went out tonight?" His words were stammered. What was she doing out here? The woman slowly nodded, before stating through broken sobs, "They were my bodyguards..." This generated a nod from the samurai. Picking up a cloth, he ran it over his sword, cleaning the blood off of it. Sheathing it, his eyes turned to look at the young woman again, before motioning with his head for the main street. "Let's go." Holding the blade in his left hand, they moved out onto the street. The woman's house was not far from where the incident had taken place. Only three blocks, at the most. Entering her yard with her, at her request, he followed beside her, his slippered feet matching her strides so she would not have to run to keep up. A middle-aged man and woman met them about half-way, the man holding a drawn weapon.  
  
"Get the hell off of our property!" The woman cowered behind him, one hand on his free arm. The young girl stepped forwards slowly, one of her arms moving out from under her cloak, revealing the bruises from where she was struck underneath. Moving the hood back, recognition filled her parents faces, before they moved forwards and embraced her, getting the full story, while the father's attention turned to the samurai. The man slowly looked to him, before lighting a lantern, and holding it towards the young samurai. What was revealed made him step back a pace. Slippered feet stood on the path to his home, the slippers elegantly made. Surround his body was a samurai robe, which seemed to be white, however, was soaked red with blood, which he could not have cleaned up. On his belt was the kodachi, magnificently designed, the exact replica of his katana, though smaller in size. However, the face was what made him step back. His nose, and mouth were set into a neutral expression, revealing his thoughtful interior, wise even. His eyes, steel-colored, were intimidating to him, causing him to look him up and down, while the hair was a rusty silver as well.  
  
"Wh-what is your name sir?" stammered the man. "Takeda Yoritomo." A quick, calm reply was given. The young woman turned to look at her savior, as the parents stared at him in shocked surprise. How could one who looked so young be as bold as their daughter said he was? Certainly, he looked skilled, but.. Silence took the four, before Yoritomo turned, moving down the path slowly. The young woman's voice spoke quickly. "Would you like to stay for the night? It's very late..." Her mother seemed to nod in agreement, her father remaining silent. "I decline. I do not do good deeds in return for them." His soft voice trickled through his lips, before he opened the gate. The young woman looked at his back, before shouting lowly to him, "But...I..want you to stay..."   
  
Yoritomo's ears heard her, however, he continued on, moving down the street. If he had listened to every such desire he had ever heard, people might call him a capitalist, one whom did something for the advantages it would bring. Why was it that the young samurai did what he did? His sensei was responsible for teaching him all he knew.  
  
When he was a child, Yoritomo's father was a warrior, a hitokiri, or, manslayer. He fought long and hard for his country, but in the end the hitokiri was disowned from his clan, and was forced into living in solitude, neither friends with the losing side of the war, nor ally with the side he served. The reason was unclear, an explanation never given to the hitokiri as to why he was banished. However, through his wife, whom had remained loyal to him, and followed him into exile, despite knowing the consequences, a son was born, whom neither wished to live their life. Waiting until he was three, the family sent Yoritomo to a man named Gotiro Reijiro. The sensei looked upon the young student, before assigning him the name Takeda, leaving him the first name of Yoritomo. Yoritomo was brought to the ruler of the house of Takeda, and there, was told that he would be living under pretense of being one of the father's bloodline. A strange fate it would be...  
  
Yoritomo, having been alone for the most of his life, now discovered that along with the mother and father, there came a pair of brothers, Kyoshi, and Koji. The two instantly welcomed him, they thinking he was their brother to begin with, though they could not explain how, and their father told them not to worry. Yoritomo and the two hit it off instantly, becoming fiercely loyal to each other, and each promising to the other that after they completed their training with their sensei's, they would meet up, and work together as a unit. So, Yoritomo went off with Mr. Gotiro. Together, they began study of the basic martial arts, Yori's quick learning of the skills generating a smile from Reijiro. He had expected a straggler, a spoiled child. He now realized here was a child who worked for everything, despite his young age. The two swiftly proceeded through the martial arts, Rei's, as he told Yori to call him, style quickly taking precedence in his life. He had mastered Rei's martial arts by the time he was eight, which was an epic feat indeed.  
  
Fighting was not the only thing which Rei taught Yoritomo, however. Through Rei, Yoritomo began to learn much wisdom. He was taught philosophy, some astronomy, geography, and history. Yoritomo's personal favorite subject was the philosophy, Rei's philosophical point of views having long since interested him. But the words which had forever clung to the lad were, "Yori..Never do you bow to anyone, not in victory, not in defeat, not in respect. All men are equal on this earth. We should treat them as such, and never bow. Not even for the emperor himself will we bow. Is this understood?" Yori's eyes grew wide with shock, but a stammered reply of "Y-y-yes s-s-sir...", was finally given. Yoritomo would never disobey a teaching from Reijiro. It was well beyond his focus of reality to even begin to attempt to think of disobeying him. So, young Yoritomo merely followed what was told, did extra to please his sensei, and learned how to fight.   
  
The sword was Yori's true passion. Reijiro fed him style after style, movement after movement. Yoritomo took them, shook them, changed them, then mastered them. His particular favorite was a two-bladed weapon style which used the shorter, yet more agile, blade called the kodachi to defend the body by parrying the blows of opponents, then returning with a quick slash of the katana in some form or another. Reijiro, of course, thought his student was a fool to think so highly of all of his sword styles, when he had never tasted them in true battle. Yoritomo's chance would come. Sooner then Reijiro would have planned. On the way home from a trip to the lake in which they fished, a wandering samurai challenged Reijiro to a match. Of course, the sensei accepted, and indeed, was making the other man seem a fool for the first part of the fight, before the other man called upon hidden companions to enter the combat. Inexperienced Yoritomo stood bravely at his sensei's back. Together, they fought a grueling battle to defend their lives from the death which now rested before them. Surprisingly, Yoritomo's was the push they needed for victory. Calling upon the twin-bladed style, he caught the sword of the leader himself, before, with a quick alteration of the normal style, moved the kodachi away from the sword, and when the other attack of the man came, caught it with his katana, and executed him savagely by tearing out the throat of the man who's skills had been in high regard by his companions. The men took one look, then ran, never having expected for their leader to fall to the blade of the child. It scared them. It dishonored Reijiro. The sensei did not look at his student, merely walked to the home they had built together, and sealed his room, leaving Yoritomo to fend for himself. 


End file.
